Oh good grief not that photograph again. That bloody chair caused me such grief with Peter who knew Jacobsen who’d designed it, and he called me all sorts of names, well beyond the fringe dear. I was the odd-jobs-man in the place, fixing the stages on the bottom two floors, and with Morley renting the studio floor I picked up his odd jobs as well. Some legal types, about as legal as Ronnie and Reggie if you ask me, were up from the film company and said he couldn’t use the chair because we’d get sued, what with Profumo blowing up around her, so one of them calls me over to cut a hole in a twenty-three guinea chair for heavens sake.
Of course these were the same hoods who insisted she stripped for the shoot, telling her it was in her contract, and she did it poor cow. Jacobsen was really sweet about it and insisted we all leave them in peace, me dripping sawdust all over the place in my hurry to get away from Tweedledum and Tweedledee. He told me afterwards that only eleven shots came out on one roll, and being in enough trouble I wasn’t about to mention the sawdust I'd got on his camera.
Not very happy memories, that photograph. Not at all. Didn't even get to keep the damned chair!
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